The Measure of a Man
by tec4cleveland
Summary: Billy has to learn how to grow up in the face of a disastrous mistake. WARNING: CANON CHARACTER DEATH


**THE MEASURE OF A MAN**

ETO, 1944

A/N: I acknowledge Melissa M. Snodgrass; I borrowed her title from the ST:TNG ep, since it really seemed to fit.

© 2010, TEC4 for plot and OCs only.

No engrams were harmed in the making of this story and I don't own or profit from the use of these characters – to those who do, thanks for letting me play in your sandbox.

WARNING: CANON CHARACTER DEATH

X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X

"Billy, how many times have I told you about strapping in your canteen the right way? That's the third time in the last six weeks you've lost it!"

"Ah, gee, Littlejohn." Billy tipped his helmet back and scratched his head. "The darn snap just doesn't work. I don't mean to lose my stuff. It just seems to happen."

Kirby, who walked behind Billy, snorted. "Yeah. But it only seems to happen to you." He shook his head. "If it wasn't for Littlejohn, you'd have lost more than that by now."

"Who asked you, Kirby?" The young man was red-faced with a mixture of irritation and embarrassment.

"Did Kirby say something, Billy? I only heard the cry of the big-mouthed bellyacher."

Caje glanced over his shoulder and he and Doc exchanged amused glances.

"Yep, seems to me I've run into that bird before," Doc laughed. "Kinda short, has green plumage, feet always barkin'?"

"Sometimes it has stripes and sometimes it doesn't, I seem to recall." Caje grinned back from the point at a disgruntled Kirby.

"All right. Keep it down." Sarge delivered his reprimand with twinkling eyes and a quickly-suppressed grin. "If I'd wanted the Krauts to know we were coming I'd have had the Signal Corps fly Kirby over and drop leaflets."

All of the squad except Kirby chuckled. They moved through the French autumn countryside, skirting a meadow surrounded by woods.

"Caje," Saunders called, as he took out the patrol map Hanley had given him, "take a look."

The scout came back to the non-com's position and read over his shoulder.

"The woods clear ahead and there's a kind of an unofficial road here." Sarge ran his finger across a simply-sketched line. "Check that out and make sure we aren't going to run into any traffic." He glanced back at the squad. "Everyone else, take five."

Littlejohn squatted under a tree, a glum Billy beside him. The big man nudged his buddy. "Here."

The young man took the object. His eyes widened in recognition. "Hey! It's my canteen. I recognize that scratch – and that dent!"

"This is the last time I keep track of your things, Billy. From now on, you're on your own."

"Right," Kirby drawled sarcastically. "The last time until the next time. You've recovered his canteen, his rifle, ammo clips … even a grenade pin."

Billy gaped at the wiry BAR man, horrified.

"Oh, yeah. I may have been thinking about Delaney and the BAR, but I noticed."

"Leave him alone, Kirby." The faintly accented voice of the scout reprimanded his friend. Caje gestured to Sarge. "All clear at the road, for now." He turned back to Kirby "We're supposed to watch out for each other, aren't we?"

"Hmph. I thought your 'rule number one' was 'don't get close'."

"Watching out for someone isn't about getting close. It's just what we're all here to do. Otherwise, we'd all be out here _seule_ , non?"

"Aw, shut up, Caje. I hate you talkin' French when you don't need to."

The Cajun affected a look of surprise. " _Excusez-moi, mon ami. Si je l'avais su cela vous dérange, je ne l'aurais pas fait._ "[1]

Sarge grinned at the BAR man's irritated expression. "You just can't help yourself, can you, Kirby?"

"Aaah. You'd all miss me if I wasn't here. Me and this BAR." He slapped the gun at his side.

"Don't know about the gun, but we would miss you," Littlejohn said. "Who else would we make fun of?"

Kirby snorted, gave Billy and Littlejohn a dirty look and plopped under a tree by himself.

Sarge and Caje conferred over the map one more time. Saunders roused the squad and they started off again.

X-X-X-X

When he thought back on it after time had passed, Billy could never quite remember exactly how it happened. The squad encountered a German patrol roughly two miles after crossing the road Caje had scouted. The Krauts opened fire and the squad scattered for cover, Saunders and Caje on the left, Billy and Littlejohn in the middle and Kirby and Doc behind a little and to the right.

In the firefight, Billy pulled out a grenade and dropped it. Worried, he started to leave cover to get the explosive. With a startled cry, Littlejohn raised up to pull his friend back. Billy tripped and fell, and when he squirmed around to his previous position, he saw the big soldier topple slowly, the life fading from his eyes.

"Nooooo! Noooooo! Littlejohn! Noooooo!" In shock, he looked back and forth between his friend and the Germans. With a roar of anger, he pulled the pin on the grenade and heaved it at the Krauts with a throw Del Packer would have been proud of. Three of the enemy fell. Billy rose up howling and charged at the two remaining Krauts, who froze, staring at him in disbelief.

Startled, the other squad members covered him; Caje took out one Kraut and Kirby got the other one.

As soon as the firing ended, Doc hustled over to Littlejohn and knelt by him, feeling for a pulse.

Billy didn't stop until he was standing over the dead Germans. He blindly pounded at them with his rifle butt and then collapsed, weeping.

Saunders crouched by Doc. The medic looked at his sergeant mournfully, shook his head and gently closed Littlejohn's eyes.

Caje went to Billy, took his arm and helped him to stand. "Come on, Billy. Come wit' me. _Il sera bien_." He had a feeling that the expression on Billy's face was twin to the one he'd worn on D-Day after Theo went down. The scout supported the younger soldier back to the others where they stood over Littlejohn's body.

Kirby opened his mouth to speak, only to meet glares from Caje, Sarge and Doc. When he looked away from his squad mates, his glance fell on Littlejohn and he turned away from them all.

Sarge completed the usual ritual: he took Littlejohn's dog tag, put the bayonet on his rifle and put it in the ground with the dead man's helmet on it. He turned to Billy. "Nelson, we have a mission to complete and we have to keep going. I need you with me."

Billy nodded slowly, then slipped his rifle over his shoulder and did his best to stand up straight. "Right, Sarge. I'm with you." He moved automatically behind the others. _Littlejohn? Oh, Littlejohn, what did I do? Oh, God, please tell me I'm dreaming …_

X-X-X-X

"That big dumb ox. That's what you get for bein' friends with the kid. Killed." Kirby glared at the sad figure huddled by the door.

Billy stood up abruptly and nearly ran out of the store where they were bivouacked.

Caje advanced on Kirby with an expression of fury that took the others aback. "Kirby, I hope to God you learn one day to keep your mout' shut, you. You don't remember how you felt when your _ami_ Eddie died? _Par Dieu, je suis certain_ , I remember how I felt when I saw T'eo get killed." His hand, which had been reaching for the BAR man's shirt front, snapped shut into a fist. "Billy's trying. He learned a lot since he's been here. But he's got to grow up now. None of us can give him t'e time or attention Littlejohn did. And you bein' mean to him isn't gonna help. So shut t'e hell up, Kirby, unless you got somet'in' worthwhile to say." The scout about-faced and went after the young soldier.

Nelson didn't turn around when the Cajun caught up with him. "Don't, Caje. Kirby's right. It's my fault that Littlejohn died."

Caje was silent for a moment. "Billy, Littlejohn treated you as t'ough you were his _frère_ , his little brot'er, non?"

"Yeah." The younger man finally turned to look at him. "So?"

"What happened, happened because he cared about you, and didn't want you to get hurt." Caje struggled for the right words. "He chose to do what he did because he couldn't be any other way. You got to live up to what he gave you from now on, be t'e soldier he always wanted to see you become. Do you understand?"

"I guess. But how do I live with myself? Every time I close my eyes, I see –" Billy fought for control.

"I know what you see." Caje reached out to Billy. "I know because I was t'ere myself, t'e firs' day, D-Day. I saw _mon meilleur ami en tout le monde_ die. T'eo was his name, T'eo Dubois, and we'd known one another since we were _p'tits_."

"I'd heard that, but … well, I guess I really didn't understand."

" _Mais_ , now you do. I decided to become t'e best soldier I could, me, so maybe I could keep t'e ot'ers safe. You can't always, you know. Sometimes t'ere's not'ing you can do. But I keep trying and I keep learning. One day, t'is war will be over and I will be able to stop bein' a soldier and go home, but until t'en – until t'en, I do what I have to do. And now you have to do t'e same."

"Thanks, Caje." Billy looked away. "I need to think for a while."

The scout nodded. "We should have some time before we have to go out again. I'll let Sarge know where you are. T'is once, I'll cover for you, like Littlejohn did for me."

X-X-X-X

Gil Hanley unconsciously flipped the pen in his hand over and over, staring at the desk in front of him, listening to First Squad's non-com speak.

"Lieutenant, I don't want to have to break in a new man. But I don't know how the squad is going to deal with Nelson. Maybe the best thing to do is transfer him out."

"Reputations travel too, you know."

"Yessir, I know that. I also know how fast a squad can unravel if the men can't count on one another, or feel they can't."

Hanley dropped the pen on his desk and stood, putting on his helmet. "I'd guess there's only one way to find out, Saunders. You need to talk to your men. Afterwards, if you really think a transfer's the best thing, I'll start the paperwork."

There was a knock on the door.

"Come in."

The door opened and Caje came in. He saluted Hanley. "Yes, sir. Excuse me, Lieutenant." He turned to Saunders. "Sarge, I'm gonna stand picket for Billy at 1400, if you don't object. He's had a rough time and I t'ink it would help, considerin'."

"All right, Caje. But hold on before you go out. The Lieutenant and I are coming over."

"Right, Sarge. I'll be in bivouac. Sir." He saluted Hanley again and left.

Caje ran back into the damaged store. Kirby, Doc, Kirkbride, Andrews and Martin looked up in surprise as the door slammed shut behind him.

"I want you to lis'en to me, all of you."

His request was unnecessary; he had their total attention.

"Maybe t'is is better comin' from Sarge, but he's got enough to worry about and I t'ink we need to settle this amongst ourselves." The scout took a deep breath. "Billy's got to grow up or he's not gonna make it home. I don't know about all of you, but I've lost too many friends already."

He looked around at the others. Andrews, who had been in Item Company on Omaha Beach, was nodding, as were Doc and Kirkbride. Kirby's face was set and angry. Martin, who had only come up from repple-depple the week before, looked pale and unhappy, but he met Caje's eyes and gave one short, determined nod.

"However we feel about what happened, Littlejohn chose what he did. Blamin' Billy isn't going to change it and it won't help him. Won't help us eit'er, come to t'at."

Kirby's voice was a low growl. "You're awful quick to forgive and forget, ain't ya, Caje?"

"I'll never forget. Not any of 'em. Braddock, Kelly, Beecham, Doc Walton, Littlejohn – " He paused and swallowed hard," – or T'eo. Not any of 'em." After a silent moment, he finished, "Forgiveness … t'at's between Billy and God, as far as I'm concerned. We got to put t'is aside and go on, or it will just get in the way of us doin' what we got to do."

"I'm with you on that, Caje. We got enough problems just in goin' out without addin' any new things of our own." Doc sighed. "I don't see no point in blaming Billy either. I guarantee you he's doin' enough of that for all of us, an' Sarge and an' Hanley, to boot."

"I can't imagine Littlejohn wanting us to," Kirkbride commented into the silence. "I agree with you, too."

"But we can't coddle him, eit'er." Caje spoke up again. "He loses his canteen again, t'en he walks wit'out it until he can get another one. He drops stuff, you point it out and it's up to him to retrieve it, just like any of us."

"And if he starts playing around with his grenades," Kirkbride interjected, "we take them away from him and smack his hand."

A chuckle went around the room. Even Kirby smiled reluctantly.

"Are we agreed, t'en?"

They looked at one another. One by one, they concurred. Kirby spoke up. "You just better hope it works out like you're expecting. I don't want to have to say 'I told you so'".

Doc snorted. "No, of course not, Kirby. You'd never do that. Just like you're not one to complain or anything."

Outside the door, Saunders stepped away, proud of his men. He looked at Hanley.

"I guess you don't need to talk to them after all, do you, Saunders?"

"No, sir. I guess I don't."

X-X-X-X

Saunders, who believed in getting back on the horse when it threw you, walked in and waved to Kirby. "You, me - and Nelson. We're going out to map Kraut positions."

He glared at Kirby, who paused and opened his mouth – and closed it quickly.

"This is gonna be a wide angle sweep. We need to move fast. Bill, get standard ordinance. We aren't supposed to engage the enemy, but I intend to be prepared anyway."

"Right, Sarge." Nelson left in a hurry.

"Let's get going, Kirby."

They met up with Nelson at the picket line. He distributed ammo and the three of them set off.

Sarge put Kirby on point. They moved quickly across the fields, staying close to the tree lines. Occasionally, Sarge would stop, review the map and change their course. Finally, he dropped back to Billy.

"Nelson," Sarge said quietly, "S2 says there are patrols through this area. So keep your eyes open. Remember, no contact unless I say so."

"Right. No contact."

X-X-X-X

The patrol they encountered was strictly infantry, about seven or eight soldiers, with no machine gun support. Billy supposed these guys weren't all that much different from their own squad. He gritted his teeth; one of the Germans was a big man who reminded him of Littlejohn.

Saunders looked at him sharply, almost as though he could read Billy's mind.

He met Sarge's eyes, trying to let him know that he was ready to do whatever he had to do and wasn't distracted.

The Kraut patrol passed and Kirby signaled that it was all clear to move forward. Saunders motioned Billy ahead of him.

They hadn't gone fifteen feet when voices came from the trees ahead of them that Kirby had just gone into. Nelson felt Sarge's hand on his shoulder and he stopped.

Saunders signaled to Billy that he should go to the left and see what was happening. Sarge ran, crouching, to the right and the younger man moved as he had been directed, trusting that Sarge would be there if he ran into trouble. He knows what he's doing, he knows, was the thought that ran though his mind repeatedly as he crept carefully forward, watching for Krauts and looking for Kirby.

His heart sank as he cautiously came around a stand of saplings. Kirby was kneeling on the ground facing his direction, a single Kraut soldier – a sentry, I'll bet – standing over him facing the other way, pointing his rifle at the BAR man with one hand and scavenging for cigarettes and rations with the other.

Billy wavered. He could almost certainly take the Kraut out with one shot, but making any noise meant the probable return of the patrol that just passed. All I can do is … He gulped. Only once had it been necessary for him to take one of the enemy out like this. He reached for the bayonet on his belt – and froze. The scabbard was empty.

He looked behind him and around him. Nothing. Now what do I do? If I let Kirby get killed … He watched as the German pulled Kirby's bayonet from the BAR man's web belt and tucked it into his own.

Moving as quickly as he could, Billy dashed forward, concentrating on the bayonet. Using moves he had seen the others use many times, he wrapped his arm around the soldier's throat, pulled the knife from the man's belt and shoved it between his ribs and into his heart. The German spasmed, blood flowed from his mouth, and he sagged into Billy's arms as he died.

"Took you long enough," Kirby groused. He staggered to his feet, paused for a moment to collect himself and then picked up his belongings. "Figured it would."

"Why is that, Kirby?" Saunders had come up behind them.

"Nelson's missing his bayonet."

Billy looked puzzled. "How did you know that? I didn't see it until just now."

"I saw it fall earlier."

"And you didn't tell him?" Sarge grabbed Kirby's arm and spun him around. "Isn't that what you agreed to?"

Agreed to?

"Yeah, well … Caje agreed. The others agreed. Littlejohn ain't here no more to take care of him and I ain't got time to hold his hand. He's got to stand on his own."

"If I dropped something, would you tell me? How about Caje or Kirkbride?"

"Well …"

"Nelson's no different. You treat him just like you'd treat one of us. You can't do that, maybe you should think about asking for a transfer. You got it?"

"Yeah, Sarge. I got it."

"Then let's get moving. We've got more ground to cover. Nelson, take the point."

Billy took the lead. Agreed to?

X-X-X-X

None of the three of them said a word on their return to camp. Kirby left immediately to clean up and find a card game, Saunders went to report to Hanley and deliver the map. Billy stood where he was for a long moment. He saw Caje cross the road ahead of him and he called to the scout.

"Caje, wait up."

"Nelson! How did t'e patrol go? Sarge and Kirby okay?"

"Yeah. They're fine." He walked alongside Caje. "Sarge said something today I didn't understand."

"What's t'at?"

"He got mad at Kirby. I guess I dropped my bayonet and Kirby saw it but he didn't say anything to me –"

"What?"

Caje's eyes darkened with anger and Billy got a little scared.

"Yeah, but Sarge said, when he found out, that Kirby was supposed to say something. That he'd agreed to, all of you agreed. Agreed to what?"

"Kirby saw you drop t'e bayonet and didn't say anyt'ing?" Caje was visibly angry. "Where's Kirby now?"

"I don't know. He took off when we got in. Caje – agreed to what?"

"Later, Bill." Caje struck off for the bivouac.

X-X-X-X

"Three little ladies, boys. Read 'em and weep."

"Aw, c'mon, Kirby," Martin from Item Company tossed his cards in disgust. "One man just can't have that much luck!"

"Well, I'm tapped." Forsythe from Third Squad rose, yawning. "I need a nap."

"Kirby."

"Hey, Caje! We got a seat. Sit down and let me take your money."

"I don't t'ink so, me."

Kirby stopped in mid-shuffle. He had seen that look on his squad mate's face before, but never directed at him.

"Let me guess. Billy just couldn't wait to come runnin' to his new best buddy and complain."

"Bill didn't complain. But he told me you saw him lose something and didn't say anything. Which you agreed to do."

"I ain't no damn babysitter, Caje."

"Which you agreed to do. Or are you telling me your word is meaningless?"

Behind them, Doc and Billy came in.

"I didn't agree! I just said I hoped it worked out the way you wanted it to – and it didn't!"

"Kirby – I'd go out on patrol with Nelson a dozen times before I'd go out wit' you once! You knew what we meant, what we were trying to do. You let me believe you were goin' along – and I don't care what you said, t'at's what you implied."

The BAR man stood up slowly and everyone in the room held their breath. The two of them stared each other down and finally Kirby dropped the deck of cards and took his money.

"Go to hell, Frenchman."

He deliberately turned his back on the Cajun and left. As he passed Billy and Doc, he ignored the younger soldier and tried to, but couldn't quite, meet the corpsman's eyes.

No one left in the room quite knew what to say, and finally Caje left, too, not acknowledging anyone.

X-X-X-X

"Doc, I'm gonna blow a gasket. What were they fighting about?"

"C'mon, Billy. Let's find some place and I'll try to explain."

The two of them came across what was left of a café. Doc signaled the old man who was acting as a waiter and managed to make himself understood well enough to order some wine. He and Billy sat at a rickety, splintered table.

"After Littlejohn died, I think Sarge was concerned about how the others in the squad might feel about you. Caje overheard him – at least that's what he told me later – talking to Hanley about transferring you out. So Caje came back and we all decided that we wanted you to stay, but that you would have to be treated the way we'd treat anyone else in the squad. No giving you special treatment the way Littlejohn did."

Billy stared into his wine glass as if it held answers only he could see. "Oh."

"Kirby was part of it – I sure thought he was, anyway, and I know Caje did. If we saw something happening, we'd tell you just like we'd tell – well, Kirkbride, or Andrews. Anyone else."

"And Kirby didn't do it."

"Guess not."

"I don't get why he's so upset. It's not like he even liked Littlejohn or anything. I never heard him say anything good to him or behave like he was friends. Mostly it was just 'dumb ox' or something like that."

"I don't know, Nelson. You'd have to ask Kirby what the problem was."

Billy tossed the last of the wine back quickly and Doc patted him on the back as he coughed and choked. "Well. That was pretty strong."

Doc laughed. "I think it was mostly dregs." He sat back.

"What happens now?"

The medic shrugged. "I can't say as I know. I imagine Sarge wasn't any too pleased with Kirby. Caje sure isn't, and Sarge sets store by what Caje says. Kirby might end up transferred."

"No. That's not right. I don't like what Kirby did, and I'm not any fan of his, but that's not right." Billy grimaced. "Those of us who are here, we belong together. Like brothers or something." He stood. "I have to go talk to him. If he will."

"Good luck, Bill." When Billy left, Doc said a quick prayer for peace in the squad. _One thing he got right – we belong together. Mend this breach between my brothers, Lord. Amen._

X-X-X-X

Billy found Kirby at another bar in town. He had to take a couple of deep breaths and steel himself before he could approach the Irishman.

"Well, if it's not little Billy Nelson. You came out all by yourself, without the Frenchman, or Doc, or anybody?"

"You're drunk, Kirby."

"Didjyou figgurthat out allby yourself?" Kirby slurred.

Nelson shook his head. "Look, Kirby. I wanted to talk to you, but I'll find you when you're sober."

"No, no. Siddown, kid. Take a load off. Have a drink with me. One for the road, you might say." He hiccupped. "I'm sure Hanley's getting the transfer orders together even as we spek – spok – ah, hell. Talk!"

"I hope not."

"You hope not? Kid, you need your head examined. I coulda got us both killed."

"Yeah, Kirby. I kinda got that for myself. What I want to know is why? I mean, you didn't even like Littlejohn. All you ever did is insult him. You guys almost got into fights more times than I could count. Why?"

"Why?" Kirby fought for balance and had to sit down. "Well." He was silent for so long that Billy wondered if he would ever speak. "It's like this, Nelson. I didn't make it off the beach with many of my squad. And of the guys who were part of the squad after I got here, there's only … " He counted on his fingers, muttering under his breath. "Six, including me. Now five."

Billy waited him out.

"I watched all the others go down. One at a time, the guys I knew, the guys who I counted on, they dropped. The repple-depple guys, well, I'm sorry 'bout them, but they don't count – I don't mean they don't count as people, but most of them – they're not here that long, anyway. But the others – every time one of them goes, I realize it could have been me. Might be me, next time. And Littlejohn – he didn't have to die. He died because of you." Kirby poked a finger into Billy's chest. "One less person who was on the beach. One step closer to losing Caje or Sarge or Doc, because they're just like Littlejohn – heroes who would die for a friend." The BAR man's jaw clenched and trembled, and his eyes glittered for a moment. "I don't want to lose no more friends. I don't want to die myself. I want this damn' stinkin' war to be over. That's why."

"Yeah, but Kirby … you coulda died from what you did."

"I kinda didn't think that through. I was so mad I just let you go. I wanted Sarge to transfer you out. I wanted him to really see that you could cost us one of the others, but I didn't think about how it was gonna be me you all woulda been without."

"Look", Billy said earnestly, "I know what I have to do. Don't coddle me. I don't want you to. Just give me a chance and treat me like the others. I'll do my best so there shouldn't be a lot to even tell me. You're going to think I'm more of an idiot than you do already, but us, those who are still here – we're like brothers. We got to stick together."

Kirby eyed him. "Next thing you'll have us all singing hymns in the chaplain's tent."

"I don't mean that."

"Hey, kid." The Chicagoan cuffed Billy. "I know what you mean. We said the same thing, we just said it different."

"Yeah. Are we good?"

"As good as we can be." Kirby squinted unsteadily at the empty bottle. "Well, can't ask you to drink on it. But maybe you could help pour me back into the bivouac. Whattya say?"

"Sure. Let's go."

X-X-X-X

Four weeks later, First Squad, King Company sat around a fire outside Remigny. Sarge finished his rations and looked around at his men. "Kirby, take first watch, 2 hours, usual rotation. The rest of you hit the hay. We've got a long walk ahead of us tomorrow."

Kirby nodded, rose and walked into the darkness.

"Nelson; hey, Bill." Mitchell, the newest of a number of replacements, some of whom had already come and gone, hissed at his squad mate.

"What, Mitchell?"

"How come nobody made a big deal of you takin' out that Kraut today? The one that was after Kirkbride? I didn't even hear him say thanks."

"He did. But we don't make a big deal out of it."

"Why not?"

"You got a job back home, Bud?"

"Yeah. I load trucks on the docks in New York. So what?"

"So. When you load a truck and they leave, do you get applause or anything like that?"

"Nope. Why should I? I'm doing my job."

"That's how it is here, too. We've got each other's backs every day, every time we go out. It's okay to encourage you new guys – you're still learning. But the rest of us – we're doing our job. Now get some sleep. Morning comes awfully early in case you didn't figure that out already."

"Right." The young soldier rolled over and closed his eyes.

 _I'm doing my job_. Billy knew he had arrived as a soldier; they would no more fuss about him killing the German than they would have if one of the others had done it.

He rolled over and took letter from his pack. His grandfather, a veteran of the First World War, tried to share some of his experiences with the young man. There was one section in particular that Nelson had read more than once recently.

"… the measure of a man isn't that he never makes a mistake – the day will never come when that will happen, Bill – but is determined by what he does after the mistake is made; how he lives with the consequences of what he's done. You can either give up and bury yourself in guilt or you can learn from it and move on …"

Part of him would always mourn Littlejohn. _How did Caje handle losing his friend? And Sarge -what about when Grady Long got killed? He looked up at the stars and thought about his buddy. I miss you, pal. I'll never forget you, but I'll be all right. I've learned, believe me, and I am moving on, because the guys who are still here need me to do my best. Wherever you are, I know you're proud of me, that I didn't fall apart and that I haven't blown myself up. I can almost hear you say it._

At that moment, a meteor flared brightly across the night sky. Billy smiled. _Thanks, Littlejohn. Message received. Nelson out._

-30-


End file.
